


Holding On To Feel The Same

by Unoriginality



Series: Back To Where We Lasted [8]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky is Steve's housewife and makes those lunches, Flashback fic, Gen, Sam is jealous of Steve's homemade lunches, Steve has sushi and the author is jealous, talk of anxiety attacks, they might be developing a slight obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:20:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unoriginality/pseuds/Unoriginality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A step back in time, just a walk to the side and back, how the mercenaries became mercenaries, and how their lives came to hold nothing but each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On To Feel The Same

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Mountain_Elements for suggesting this.

It'd been three and a half months. Bucky seemed to be over the worst of the memory loss; he didn't hesitate as much as he used to when Steve brought something up, recognition coming faster in his expression. And sometimes he spoke about things on his own, brought them up without any prompting from Steve. According to Sam, that was a good sign of healing.

Steve called Sam a lot to ask for help when Bucky would hide up on the roof. Sam wasn't a psychiatrist, he wasn't even a therapist, but Steve was desperate to help his best friend, the brother that was always there for him, heal and move past decades of abuse. And Sam was the closest he had to help doing that. That had become his only priority.

He went to work at the VA during the day because he had to; they needed to pay for their apartment and food somehow, after all. But every waking moment at home was spent with Bucky, or looking for ways to help Bucky when Bucky had retreated to his own hiding spots.

It'd been three and a half months, and Bucky was already doing better now that he didn't have to sleep alone at night. Steve actually found he also slept better knowing he was immediately there the nights when nightmares and panic attacks woke Bucky up.

Everything in his world had been reduced down to one person.

That tiny bit of improvement due to the sleeping arrangements made Steve hopeful. Hopeful that maybe it was time to start reintroducing Bucky to society, or at least to close friends. So Steve decided that inviting a friend over might be a good idea.

"What do you think, Sam?" Steve asked over their lunch break. They were in the cool inside of the VA building, away from the summer heat outside. Sam had his usual brown bag style lunch, a sandwich, a piece of fruit, and a crunchy snack. He loved to give Steve the stink-eye because Bucky liked to cook him actual lunches to take with him.

"I don't know," Sam answered around a bite of sandwich. "He's had a few months to decompress, seeing someone other than you might do him a bit of good. You're right on that. But you gotta know, it might backfire."

Steve sighed, looking down at his can of soda. "I know. But he can't stay locked up there forever. He needs to get back into the world, or at least interact with more than just me."

"Is there anyone he might remember besides you to interact with?" Sam asked. "I'm mostly a stranger, and possibly one with a negative association to Hydra. Someone he already knows might be better."

Steve shook his head. "Everyone's gone except Peggy. He might be able to handle seeing her aged, but her dementia might be too much for him to deal with just yet."

"Mm. Good point." Sam looked thoughtful, chewing his peanut butter and banana sandwich. Steve had no idea how people could stand modern day bananas. They were mealy and pulpy. "Okay, so here." He pulled out his phone and handed it to Steve. "Call him, see if he minds. I might be able to get an idea of what we're working with if I see him in person."

Steve took Sam's phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found his own phone number; the phone was left behind with Bucky in case of an emergency. He hit dial and waited for Bucky to answer.

It wasn't until the third ring that he answered, and Steve had started to worry that he wasn't going to at all. "Steve?"

"Hey, Buck. Got a question for you."

"Yeah?"

Steve bit back a sigh for the millionth time in the last almost four months. That dead tone was worrying, and getting tiring. "You mind if Sam drops by with me after work? He'd like to say hi." He'd also like to give a more practiced recommendation on how to help Bucky heal, but that wasn't the part Steve was going to say.

For a second, Steve heard nothing on the other end, and he almost repeated himself before Bucky answered. "That's fine." He didn't sound terribly happy about it, but nothing really perked him up except for sometimes cooking. It was probably as good as he'd get.

"We'll be home in a few hours then," Steve said. "See you then."

"Bye."

There was that flat tone again. This time, Steve _did_ sigh, handing the phone back to Sam after hanging up. "That was enthusiastic," he said. "Don't be offended if he doesn't exactly pounce you in glee."

Sam laughed. "The only people I want jumping me like that are the ladies, Steve." He eyed the time on his phone. "And we've got five minutes to finish here and get to work. Eat your delicious-looking sushi and what the hell, when did he learn how to make sushi?"

Steve popped the last piece of his roll into his mouth, chewing quickly to answer Sam. "I don't know. He probably looked it up on the internet."

"So that's the first time he's made that?" Sam asked, sounding incredulous and jealous all at once.

Steve nodded. "He's always been really good at cooking. It doesn't take much for him to pick up a recipe and perfect it. I've kinda let him take over cooking. That seems to help."

"Good," Sam said, pointing at Steve with his last chip. "Keep that up. Let him decide if he doesn't want to cook, don't offer to do it for him. Give him that control. It's a small aspect of his life, but it's more than Hydra gave him."

Steve tucked his chopsticks away in the wrap around his bento box. "I know. I like his cooking too much to take over unless he wasn't feeling well anyway." He grinned. "See, I know how to be selfish."

"It's a damn miracle," Sam said, crumpling his paper bag and tossing it into the trash. "Now come on, Mister Only-Selfish-When-It-Comes-To-Food, we have some work to do."

The last few hours of the work day crawled. The whole day typically did for Steve. He didn't like the long separation from Bucky. Now that Bucky was back, now that Steve knew what had happened to him, he didn't like being far. He didn't like not being there for Bucky at every moment that Bucky might need him. Bucky needed him, and therefore, Steve needed to be there.

But finally, the evening hit and Steve and Sam clocked out for the day and headed to their vehicles. "I'll follow you," Sam said as they got to his car. "Try not to lose me."

"I should be saying that to you," Steve said, moving on down the lot to his motorcycle.

Steve took a back way home, less likely to be full of traffic that might cut them off, easier for Sam to follow him. He had to leave finding parking around that place to Sam, though. The garage was only for residents, and street parking was bad for a block or so away from the complex.

Sam, apparently, decided to ignore the 'residents only' rule and just followed Steve right into the garage.

"You're a miscreant," Steve said after parking his bike, staring at Sam's car the next spot over.

Sam flashed him a shit-eating grin. "You gonna tattle on me?"

"No, but I might key your car."

Sam scowled, leaning over his car. "Touch my baby and I will chase you down, even if it takes me five years, Rogers."

Steve laughed, glad for the momentary relaxation. Truth be told, he was nervous about how Bucky would react to Sam. He hoped it'd be good, that Bucky would be able to have a friend besides just Steve. But Bucky was still so unpredictable, it was hard to say.

"Careful to avoid interacting with his left hand," Steve said as they walked up the stairs. "And don't sit on my right. That might upset him."

"There a reason for that?"

"That used to be my bad ear," Steve said. "When in an unknown situation, he likes to act as my ear for me. I dunno if he'll break that habit, but for now, I'm just as glad for it. It's something he remembers from before."

Sam nodded, waiting just in the corner of Steve's peripheral vision while Steve unlocked the door. "That's a good thing, yeah."

"Bucky? I'm home," Steve called into the apartment as he stepped in. He let Sam get by him, then closed and locked the door.

The dining and living area showed no sign of Bucky. The window wasn't open, which led Steve to believe that he wasn't up on the roof. Which left either the bedroom or the bathroom. He decided to wait a minute to let Bucky use the bathroom in peace, in case that's where he was.

"Take a seat," he said, hanging his keys on the key hook and motioning to the dining table. "The place is small, but I don't need big, and Bucky seems to prefer this."

Sam glanced towards the back hall. "Wonder why," he said, voice hushed.

"I couldn't even guess," Steve said just as quietly. Then he returned to a normal speaking level. "You want something to drink? We have Coke, water, milk, some OJ. I can brew a pot of coffee."

"In this heat?" Sam shook his head. "No way, man. I'll have some OJ. Good for ya, doesn't make your insides feel like a volcano to match the heat outside."

"You got it," Steve said, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge. He was just digging into the cupboard for a glass when footsteps joined them from the hallway. He looked over to see Bucky in one of his long-sleeved turtlenecks. "Speaking of heat, it's a little warm for a long-sleeved shirt, isn't it?"

Sam studied him. "It makes me overheat just looking at it."

Bucky looked like he was debating between bolting or killing his way out of the situation he was in. "I'm comfortable," he finally said, like a soldier trying to defy an order without getting in trouble for it.

Or perhaps like a living weapon doing its best to not get destroyed by its handlers.

Steve had to take a second to calm his temper before he could safely grab that glass he'd been reaching for without shattering it.

Bucky wasn't wearing long sleeves because he was comfortable temperature-wise. He was hiding his arm. He showed no issue wearing t-shirts when it was just them, and he didn't wear his traction glove inside unless needed, either.

"Did you want something to drink, Buck?" Steve asked, pouring Sam's orange juice for him.

"I can get it," Bucky said, stepping around the table where Sam sat like Sam might get up and bite him if he weren't careful enough, and into the kitchen. There was a moment where Bucky looked like he was hesitating. "What about you?"

"Me?" Steve put the orange juice away and pulled out one of his Cokes. "I was just going to grab one of these."

Bucky scowled. "Those aren't as good as they used to be."

"Didn't they used to have cocaine in them?" Sam asked, taking his glass from Steve after it was offered.

"In very, very tiny amounts, and we were in elementary school when they stopped," Steve said, giving Sam a dirty look. "I heard that laugh."

Sam held up his hands in surrender, trying to look as innocent as possible. "I insinuated nothing."

Steve sat on Sam's right side, leaving the spot across from Sam for Bucky. That'd put Bucky on Steve's preferred right side without getting caught next to Sam. "Not out loud," Steve said, cracking open his can.

Bucky sat down with a glass of ice water exactly where Steve predicted he would, his left index finger tapping on his glass. It was a nervous habit he'd developed somewhere, Steve didn't know where. Sometimes it drove Steve batty, the unrelenting noise, but usually it just concerned him. But getting Bucky to say what was bothering him was almost impossible.

"So, nice to officially meet you," Sam said, holding out his hand to Bucky.

Bucky stared at Sam's hand, then at him. He was silent long enough that Sam actually withdrew his hand. "Hi."

That wasn't like Bucky. Not the Bucky Steve had known. The Bucky he'd known was social, friendly, liked people. The Bucky from before Hydra would've taken that hand, would've smiled like the sun, would've made friends immediately.

Sam rolled with it, much better than Steve at handling the behavior of someone who'd gone through a lot of trauma. "So we're all glad to see you home," he said. "You gave us a helluva scare. You liking the new place here?"

Bucky glanced around. "The kitchen's small."

That was more than Steve actually expected.

Sam laughed. "Yeah, we gotta convince Steve here to move you two somewhere bigger, get you a proper kitchen."

Bucky balked. "This place is fine."

Steve wasn't sure the reason for that reaction. Bucky had never once in his life shown an inclination one way or another between small or open places. "Not interested in a bigger kitchen?" he asked, trying to sound casual about it by hiding himself behind a drink of his soda.

Bucky shrugged. "I only cook for two people. Don't need bigger. Just... I was observing, that's all."

"It's your call," Steve said. "If you change your mind, I'll start hitting the classifieds." He decided not to point out that they'd have to go out less often for groceries if they had a bigger kitchen to hold more food. He didn't want to pressure Bucky, not in front of Sam. Sam was there to make friends with Bucky, not be witness to an anxiety attack.

Bucky didn't answer, finger taptaptapping on his glass.

"It's not something you gotta decide right now," Sam said. "So how has real life been treating you? Nice to live in your own place out here in the world?"

More silence from Bucky. Steve wanted to scream and cry and try to shake the hurt out of him.

"Bit nervous?" Sam asked, cool as he was handling any other vet, taking a drink of his juice. "Don't worry, that pass-"

"I'm supposed to be saying sorry," Bucky interrupted with all the finesse of the proverbial bull in the china shop. "So... sorry. For trying to kill you." And that seemed to be the end of what he'd say on the subject.

Sam gave him an easy going smile that usually settled most people's nerves. "Hey, don't worry about it. I understand." He sat back in his chair a bit. "I got an idea. Why don't you come in with Steve some day? Get a feel for the place, sit in with a group or something, see what we do all-"

Bucky abruptly got up, fast enough that his chair tilted back dangerously close to toppling over. "I'm going outside."

Steve and Sam wisely stayed quiet, letting Bucky slip out the window, up the fire escape, and onto the roof. Once they couldn't hear sounds of Bucky's footsteps on the metal stairs, Steve let out a slow, frustrated breath. He rested his forehead on the palm of his hand. "This is what it's like every day. And it used to be worse." Sam put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I want to hurt them, Sam," he said quietly. "I have never actively wanted to hurt someone as much as I want to hurt the people who did this to him. They would've been more merciful to just have let him die down there."

"And if they had, he wouldn't be here now," Sam said. "It's going to take time. And I can't answer 'how much time'. That gets asked a lot, but there's never an answer besides 'as long as it takes.'" While Steve had to struggle to keep his eyes from getting wet- from frustration, from grief, from anger- Sam rubbed his shoulder. "He may not be up for making a lot of social contact yet. I know that makes it hard, especially when it means there's nobody who can keep him company while you're at work, but you gotta go at his pace. It's okay to push a little, keep him from standing still or going backwards, but you can't push him faster than he can go. He'll get there."

Steve's stomach felt like he'd been kicked. "I don't know what to do. When I come home, he's usually locked in the bathroom. He won't have his panic attacks on the roof, he locks himself in the bathroom, and I have no idea how long he's been in there by the time I get home. He could've been in there all day." He shook his head. "I need to find some way so that he's not alone all day."

Seconds ticked by. Sam dropped his hand, crossing his arm on the table and putting his weight on it. "Find a line of work that he can be involved in with you. We'd miss you down at the VA, but he's gotta be your first priority."

Steve lifted his head to look at Sam. "What kind of job would let me bring him along like I'm some sort of babysitter?"

"Well, not government, but maybe a security company of some sort?" Sam grabbed his almost empty glass. "Steve, he needs out in society. But he needs it on his terms. One of the hardest things for vets when they come back is that the transition from the field to home is so sudden, it's like falling off a cliff and hitting the ground." He paused. "And I'm sorry for that inappropriate imagery."

Steve snorted in morbid amusement.

"Look, he's spent decades only knowing one kind of job. Find a field where he can have that kind of job, but on healthy terms, with you in charge. Ease him back away from where the Winter Soldier is Hydra's thing, to where he can be Bucky Barnes again." He swallowed the last of his juice. "I don't have any good suggestions on where to go to find that kind of job except maybe a private security company. You're Captain America, you can negotiate whatever kind of contract you want for the two of you, and nobody's going to tell you 'no'."

A job where he could negotiate terms, something where Bucky would be doing familiar work with Steve to help make it less Hydra and more Steve and Bucky. The glimmers of an idea started forming at the back of his mind. "I'll think of something," he said. "I gotta figure out what to do about his identity before I can get him a regular job. He's not even ready to talk about what happened to me. How the hell are we going to explain to the government why Bucky Barnes is still alive and where he's been? I can't put him through that until he's ready and able to handle it."

Sam made a thoughtful noise. "Tough situation. Can't say I envy you. But, one thing I can do is decline future invites, unless they come from Bucky himself. Trapping him in his home with someone he's not ready to interact with yet isn't going to do him any good." He stood. "Thanks for the OJ, but I think you have a friend who needs you more than me right now. And he's probably roasting up there in that shirt."

Steve sighed. "Yeah. Bye, Sam. See you at work tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, man."

Steve stayed in his seat for several minutes after Sam left, thinking. Bringing people into Bucky's life wasn't happening yet. Which meant that while Steve had Sam and the Avengers if he needed to talk, Bucky literally had nobody else. And he just locked himself in the bathroom and had panic attacks when Steve wasn't around. Steve was going to have to devote every spare second he had to Bucky, at least for awhile. At least until he wasn't having nightmares almost every night. Until he wasn't spending several times a day hiding in a locked room because everything in his head seemed terrifying.

Until Bucky felt well enough to not need it anymore, Steve was going to have to devote everything he had of himself to him. If he didn't, Bucky might never heal, might never come back from what Hydra did.

And that wasn't okay. It wasn't going to happen that way. Not if Steve could help it.

He got up and headed back to the bedroom, giving Bucky a bit more time to himself while Steve made some decisions for them. He looked at the closet, looked at the two uniforms pressed up against opposite sides, hiding in the back corners. One all black, tactical vest, a face mask sitting up on the shelf above it. The other in patriotic red, white, and blue, a vibranium shield sitting on the ground and propped against the inside wall.

Both of them waiting to be put back into action.

Hell, he was Captain America, he could negotiate any contract he wanted.

Freelance contractors. It wasn't Steve's first inclination, not for himself. If he'd ever wanted to go into that kind of job, it'd be with the Avengers, backed by Stark Industries. But it'd put Bucky in a line of work familiar to him, something to transition himself slowly from Hydra's assassin to a regular citizen who happened to have a sometimes exciting job.

Decision made, Steve headed back into the living room, grabbed his phone, and slipped out the window, heading up to find Bucky.

As he thought, Bucky was sitting in the middle of the roof, the heel of his left foot kicking at a small spot where the concrete had been smashed in. Steve had a thought about what happened there. "Hey."

Bucky went still, then looked up at Steve through his hair. "You were trying to put me in therapy."

Steve shook his head, sitting down next to Bucky. "No, actually. I thought you might want a friend."

Bucky crossed his legs underneath him. "I thought I already had one."

"You do," Steve said. "And you're not losing that one. I'm always here for you. I just thought that maybe it was time to have more than just me to talk to."

Bucky turned his head maybe ten degrees towards Steve. "You say I don't talk enough as it is."

Steve felt momentarily caught, then let out a deep breath. "You're right, I do. And that's not fair of me. I know you're trying. I'm not trying to be impatient with you, I just... I wish it had never happened. I wish you didn't have to go through this." He tilted his head down slightly, raising an eyebrow in a pointed fashion. "And you'd wish the same if positions were reversed."

Bucky crossed his arms over his stomach. "What time do you work tomorrow?"

"Eight," Steve said. "But maybe for not much longer."

Bucky's head whipped up to stare at him. "Did you get fired?" He looked ready to go chase Sam down on foot and personally rip his skull off and spit in his gaping neck wounds.

Steve shook his head, holding up his hands in a steadying manner. "No, but I might have an idea about a new job, one you can help me with. Something to give you something to do rather than be alone all day here."

Bucky's ire backed off, down to a dead sort of surrender, like he was being ordered into a new job that he had no choice about.

Steve wanted to hurt all of Hydra. He regretted his decision even less.

"How about we become freelance contractors? We'll hire ourselves out, clean up messes governments can't clean up themselves. We'll help hunt down Hydra, get paid for it. Put you back out in the field."

That lifeless look went away, replaced with confusion, and Steve could swear just a bit of hope, something he hadn't really seen on Bucky's face, not since he came home. "That's not going to be easy."

Steve shook his head. "No, it won't. But I know who our first employer could be. I got his direct number. What do you say? Captain America and his partner, out doing good deeds for a few coin? I'll control who we work for, when and if we stay on mission or not, if it looks bad. You won't take orders from anyone but me."

"I'd need a work name, if you're going by Cap," Bucky said. He didn't sound exactly excited about the prospective job, but that was the most life he'd heard in Bucky's voice since his last day off.

"I'll let you figure that out before I make that call," Steve said.

Bucky tilted his head. "You're actually serious about this."

"It's the best way I know how to take care of you," Steve said. "That's all I care about."

Bucky looked down at his hands resting in his lap. "You shouldn't isolate yourself because of me."

"How many years did I have nobody but you?" Steve asked. "And how many of those years did you drop everything in your control to be there for me?"

"It's not the same."

"Yes, it is," Steve insisted. "Just because what the needs are is different doesn't mean it's not the exact same thing."

Bucky looked like he was contemplating if he'd continue arguing or not. "You'll be in uniform?"

"Probably," Steve said. "It's handy, it's iconic, and it has a convenient place to hook my shield so I have both hands free when I need them."

Bucky drew in a breath, looking across the street at the far building. Steve noticed some bullet hole-like marks, like they were made by rocks. He had a feeling Bucky was to thank for that. "So Captain America is going freelance." He shook his head, almost sounding like the old Bucky. "So I guess the Winter Soldier's gonna have to follow him to keep him safe."

Steve's eyebrows both raised. "You sure you wanna go by that name?"

Bucky shrugged. "The Winter Soldier's a non-entity. I don't have to have an identity."

"There's more to it, isn't there?"

For a few heartbeats, it didn't look like Bucky was going to answer that. "If we ever go after Hydra, I want them to know who it is that's coming for them."

There was a hard edge in his voice, but Steve could hear fear in it, could hear the same fear and rage mixed together as he had on the helicarrier. Hydra scared Bucky, as much as his memories of Steve had in that moment. And sooner or later, if they went into this line of work, they'd have to face Hydra. It'd be hard for Bucky.

And Steve was going to be right there with him when that time came.

"All right," Steve said, grabbing his phone off the roof next to him. He scrolled through his contacts to a particular number that had been given to him after he was released from the hospital, in case any information surfaced that he could pass along. He knew they'd get a job through this contact. He clicked send.

He glanced at Bucky as the phone rang; Bucky was watching him curiously, head tilted forward as if he were trying to hear who'd pick up.

"Hello?"

"Mister President?" Steve said as greeting. "This is Steve Rogers. How interested would you be in help hunting down Hydra?"


End file.
